the clock is wrong
by pondlilyrue
Summary: .. will it ever be right? peeta/katniss


**The Clock is Wrong**

A stab of jealousy pounds through my veins. I can feel it seeping down to the marrow of my bones. My throat runs dry and a lump rises inside. I try to shut my eyes and blink back tears because the last time I cried was when my father died and I was eleven. Even closing myself off from the world will not stop this. I clench my hands into fists, attempting not to strangle anyone who comes to close, and find they turn ice white. Good, the pain helps me concentrate. Envy continues when I watch Finnick and Annie, so in love and happy for their reunion, because the love of their life isn't in the hospital wing trying to overcome being hijacked. Tears spill, without my permission. I stare dejectedly at my food not feeling the least bit hungry. Bile rises and I swallow again.

"Katniss?" Finnick's voice breaks me from my temporary daze. Morphling sounds nice right now; I feel like taking a trip to an alternate universe. Numb is how I want to feel. I don't want to feel the piercing agony that I call my heart right now. I just shake my head at whatever he was going to say and blink back fresh tears. "Katniss, what's – oh, I get it." His sea green eyes pierce me and I stare uncomprehended back at him.

"No you don't," My hoarse voice snaps back, far more harsh than I intended to. I don't feel in the least bit regretful though. "The person you love is not in the hospital with restraints on him to stop him from killing you." I have a death grip on my bowl of porridge, it looks like, and the next thing I do shocked myself. I threw it on the ground and watched it shatter into mere shards. Satisfaction courses through me. Everyone in the room stares at me and I glower at them. Haymitch's Seam grey eyes meet mine and I death-stare him.

"Katniss, I know this is hard for you -" Finnick begans again, trying to console me like I'm mentally unstable. I'm not; I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much. Who am I kidding? I am a mental patient. I even have the wristband to prove it. I am sick of everyone jabbering on and on about 'I understand this is hard' and 'I know how you are feeling' but I don't want people's sympathy. I want Peeta to get better. I don't even know if that is possible, anymore.

"- Hard, Finnick?" I snap back at him, glaring, "This is the hardest thing in the world! I-I-I-d-d-don't k-know if he will be b-better." That's when it happens. My guard that I have kept in perfect shape for seventeen years falls down. I sob violently. Next thing I know, I'm crying into my hands and hiccuping and everyone is staring. Oh, everybody talks, everybody talks, but I'm not listening. They are probably talking about that 'poor, unstable girl,' and Plutarch will be complaining that 'I don't perform well anymore.'

What happens next surprises me. Haymitch Abernathy, my drunken mentor from the Games, comforts me. He lets me cry into his shoulder, and he is crying too. I'm screaming and shrieking and I am weeping openly. The whole District Thirteen cafeteria is staring at this scene playing in front of their eyes, but I do not care. My whole world has collapsed, and it is none of their business.

"I know, sweetheart," My nickname causes me to stiffen, but his voice is not sarcastic. "This is very hard for you, but it's not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault, but it doesn't change. Why can't Peeta be back? The old Peeta?" I whimper and tears fall again. "Why does this have to happen to him? He's such a good person. I will kill Snow." The last sentence is final. Coin hasn't had her on-off boyfriend hijacked by the morbid man, and I will do it if she likes it or not.

"I don't know why, sweetheart. He is almost convinced you are not a mutt, though." His voice is supposed to be consoling, but the old Peeta _loved _me. But, oh, the Capitol had to take away the one shred of happiness from my life and cause him to have murderous feelings towards me.

_How many times can I break till I shatter? _A familiar song lyric enters my brain, and, for once, I completely understand. I've been broken by the Capitol on many occassions. But, this might be the final point, the Checkmate that shatters me. Because I _love _Peeta and I've never felt this strongly for a person before.

"He won't love me again," I say with a sense of finality. "With everything that's happened, all those shiny memories, I'm out of the question. I can just wish that he finds someone who he feels semi-happy with." And, with that, I leave. Still crying into my hands like a mad-woman. The poor mentally unstable seventeen year-old Mockingjay runs from the cafeteria because the food's too scary.

I find my favorite supply closet and lock myself in there. The solidarity makes me feel a dash better than I felt before. But, there and then, sitting on a heap of pencils, my ponderings begin to take over. The Mockingjay has lost her wings; they were taken away from her that fateful last day of the Quarter Quell. She is completely and utterly alone. She died when Peeta died, the old Katniss Everdeen did.

I sob and I cry and I thrash around and I scream. I shriek his name over and over until my voice breaks: "Peeta! Peeta! Peeta!" I kick the door to feel pain in my foot just to make sure I'm still living. It throbs and it bruises but I won't stop till some guards make me.

Haymitch finds me sitting there, curled in fetal position, after a round of thrashing. His eyes scan me over and a look of pity crosses his old face. _Pity._ How I hate that! Don't feel sorry for me; feel sorry for the poor blonde-haired boy in the hospital with restraints on his appendages. I'm cruel, manipulative and evil. Relief is what I should be feeling because someone finally sees me for who I am.

But, no, it never works that way for me. Anguish fills my soul as Haymitch took me in the arms and comforted me. I am a lost case, though. If Peeta is not fine, I am not fine. If Peeta is in pain, then I am in pain. If Peeta is a mental patient, I am a mental patient. If Peeta is happy, I am happy. That's how it works; that is who I am.

"Sweetheart, I know that he will get better," I looked up at him with hopeful eyes, looking ridiculously like a lost puppy, "But he will never be the same." Under better circumstances, it would be almost comical how my face slowly felt – how the grin was slowly wiped off, my eyes lost my gleam. Who am I kidding? I knew this already; just those five words I did not want to hear were heard. _He will never be the same. He will never be the same. He will never be the same. _The old loving, kind, and loveable Peeta has died and the masochistic, bent-on-killing me Peeta has been born. I'm shattered.

"Right," I gasp and stare at the ceiling, tears blurring my vision. I swallow hard and manage to get out the next few words. "I'm going to go visit him."

"Sweetheart, you know it's not safe -" Haymitch attempted, but, since I'm the Mockingjay and what I want is everyone's priority, I interrupt him.

"He has restraints. I won't sit close to him. Just the thought of him being there alone breaks my heart." I say honestly. It's true. He gets no visitors. No one wants to see a broken Peeta, a shell of the brave and kind boy he used to be. _I kill Snow. I kill Snow _repeats through my head to get my anger out. This is all the Capitol's fault. _I kill Snow. I kill Snow. I kill Snow._

Haymitch, to my utter shock, has tears gleaming in his stormy grey eyes. "You really love him," he says. He is a hundred percent sober and telling the truth. I nod. How come when Peeta loves me I am not sure of my feelings, but when I grow to love him he really hates me? The clock is wrong. "Don't give up on him." And, with that, my drunken mentor leaves.

_Trust me, Haymitch, _I think, _I won't. _It's not in my nature to go down without a fight, even when things seem insurmountable. This fight will be hard, but worth it. I take a few deep breaths and walk down the hallways to get to the hospital. I see my mother and Prim there, both looking extremely worried with their furrowed brows and pursed lips. I raise my eyebrows at them, and they look at me warily.

"Katniss," My mother begins, "You cannot go in there. He is saying terrible, terrible things and threatening you. It'll only be like a repeat of last time. I suggest you go-"

"- No, I don't care what you say. I am seeing him. I won't touch him or anything. I will just try to help him." My eyes shine with unshed sobs and Prim's eyes were looking glassy too. My mom looked a little disgruntled, but walked off to help some soldiers coming in from District Two. Prim put her hand on my shoulder as a source for comfort.

"Don't give up on him. Somewhere, deep inside him, there is the Peeta that adores you. Don't give up. The Capitol can play with memories, but they can't change you unless you allow them too. You can't change a person with venom; you can only tamper with their mind." Prim explained. I was shocked at the wisdom coming from my little sister, but nodded and hugged her.

I stood outside the door to Peeta's hospital room, taking deep breaths and collecting himself. I could see him through the window and he was sleeping. In sleep, he looked like the old Peeta whom I loved dearly. There was no haunted look, for his eyelids were closed. He wasn't scowling because he couldn't see me. I admired his looks for a minute before I, as quietly as a mouse, opened the door.

I should've known. Peeta was an extremely light sleeper. All those times we shared a bed, and I couldn't remember that. Immediately, he jumped awake and when he saw me I couldn't help noticing his baby blue eyes. For a second, they looked at me like they used to, like I was a princess or something. But, in that millisecond of tranquility, his eyes hardened and his jaw set. His hands were spasmic and clenched into fists with white knuckles. I gulped.

"Yes, be afraid, Mockingjay. I have come to end your life -" Peeta began, with a sadistic grin on his handsome face. Tears shined through my vision, but I stood my ground. I would try to help him, no matter what. All those times he stood beside me and comforted me, this is his payback. I would love and comfort him through it all.

"Peeta, you know this isn't what you really believe. I would never-"

He laughed. A cold mirthless laugh with a roll of his azure eyes. Spasms took over again and three guards appeared behind me. The first one, a large brawny man, took my hand.

"Get out of here, you know this isn't safe."

"I can decide what's safe for myself, thanks," I replied sarcastically and stepped forward towards Peeta. His eyes suddenly looked wild and possessed, like he was the Mutt and not me. His pupils dilated until they looked unnaturally large and in that moment, so much regret took over me. _This _is what happened to him. _This _is what happened to _my _Peeta.

"MUTT! MUTT! YOU'RE A STINKING MUTT! YOU TRIED TO KILL ME; I FIGURED YOU OUT! SHE IS TRYING TO KILL ME! SOMEONE! SHE'S A STINKING MUTT! I'M GOING TO KILL HER!" His hands shook and vibrated, his head twisted and turned. His whole body trembled with rage and insanity. I took one last look at him, and, deciding I couldn't take anymore of Peeta like this, left the room. Crying.

I shrunk back against the walls, my ears still repeating Peeta's violent screams. This was probably the tenth time I cried that day, and I felt a little weak. I noticed everyone in the hospital wing was giving me weird looks, some pitying, some disbelieving. No one had ever seen me cry before, except Peeta. The _old _Peeta, I could say. Prim came up to me and took my hand.

"Katniss, did you listen to what I said?" I nodded and turned to her.

"He, he, said I was a mutt and I tried to kill him and that he would kill me. He was trembling and had spams, and," I took a pause, "his eyes had this haunted look to them. I would _never, ever _try to kill him."

"We know, Katniss. He will get better with time. He can't fully heal," I cringed as she said this, being the second person that day who told me that, "but, in this war, we are all going to have scars. Some more apparent than others. But we will heal together if we comfort each other."

"He can't even look me in the eye. He thinks I'm a mutt." I shook my head and left. But, just before I left, I heard Prim say something extremely weird:

"The clock is wrong."

I didn't know if she meant it in a literal sense. Like the hospital clock was displaying the wrong minute, second, or hour. Or if she meant my situation with Peeta was wrongly timed. Maybe we aren't ever meant to be together because Fate was so keen on pulling us apart.

Prim's other words replayed in my brain. Her reassurances that the Capitol can not change a person's emotions, just their memories. Because there is only so much you can do to a person. His mind has been played with, yes, but there has to be a fragment of the old baker's boy in him that will come out. I think about those precious seconds where his eyes looked at me like they used to be, before they turned cold and angsty again. I would hold onto those moments. I touch my pearl's smooth surface and kiss it, pretending I am kissing his sweet lips instead.

But, those last four words did echo through my mind, I can honestly say.

The clock is wrong.

**The End**


End file.
